I swallowed. I was more than glad I’d found her diner. And her. She was an unexpected gift in my life. Perhaps the greatest I would ever receive.
"Tell me about your life, your friends," she whispered. "Don't tell me goodbye yet."
I tightened my hold and did what she asked. I told her about Dan and Carol. Andrew and Tara. How they had drawn me into their world, showing me what a real family was like. Loving. Caring. Supportive. Not judgmental and cold.
“I’m glad you found them.”
I chuckled. “Carol found me, actually. And she refused to let me stay in my shell. It was as if she saw what I needed and was determined to give it to me, whether I knew I wanted it or not.”
I described my house as best I could, telling her about the renovations I had made and the huge porch I had added on to the front.
“The sunsets, Holly. They’re breathtaking and remind me every day how much I love living there. I make a point of sitting on the porch and watching them. I feel a sense of peace.”
“It sounds beautiful. Maybe one day, I’ll go there.”
I had to bite my lip to stop myself from telling her I wanted her to come and be with me there—that I wanted her to see the sunsets with me every day. I knew it was only the emotion of this trip causing me to feel that way. Instead, I hummed. “You could sketch and paint something new every day.”
I made her chuckle with some stories of restoration disasters—glued hair and throbbing thumbs from miscalculated blows of my tools. She told me funny stories of the diner and of growing up, as she put it, like a gypsy.
Throughout it all, we touched. She swept her fingers over my skin, warming it as they went. I kept her close, my hand often buried in her wild hair to tilt her head back for a kiss. Chester slumbered away at the bottom of the bed, frequently stretching, pushing on my feet as he made himself more comfortable.
The room became still. Finally, she asked, "How much longer to your parents' place?"
"About four hours."
"So you'll get there late afternoon."
"I have to stop somewhere and pick up some gifts. This was such a last-minute decision, I didn't bring anything with me." I shuddered, thinking about entering a mall on Christmas Eve. I wasn't big on crowds.
She sat up, tugging the blanket with her to cover her beautiful breasts. "Evan, there’s a lovely gift shop here. Local artisans. Tom's wife, Leslie, runs it. She doesn't open until noon, but I know she would let me bring you in early, if you'd like. You could pick out some things, she would wrap them for you, and you could drive straight through." She paused. "Then I wouldn't worry."
"Worry?"
"It gets dark early. I’d like to know you got to your parents’ before it got dark, especially today. I'll worry because of your car." She smiled even though I could see the deep sadness in her eyes. "I'm not sure there’ll be another diner for you to find open tonight."
My breath caught. She was concerned about me again. She cared. I drew my fingers over her cheek and pulled her back down to me. She buried her face into my neck.
"There will never be another diner—or another you, Angel."
Her voice almost broke me. "Make love to me, one more time?"
How could I say no?
Hours later, I held out my credit card for the purchases. All picked out with the help of Holly, all tasteful, thoughtful gifts most people would be thrilled to receive. Handmade silk scarves for my mother and sister, carved business card holders for my brother and father, beautifully knitted items for my new niece, along with a handmade teddy bear with arms and legs that moved. There was even a hand-painted silk tie for my brother-in-law. I knew, though, my family would be unimpressed by the choices. No brand names, expensive trinkets, or extravagant gestures were in the gifts. None of them would be deemed acceptable. But I didn't say a word. I appreciated Holly’s assistance and enthusiasm. I knew she thought the gifts would be accepted and enjoyed. I refused to tell her otherwise—she had been so delighted and wanted to help; I couldn't bear to disappoint her. The gifts would find homes elsewhere, but not with my family. Of that, I had no doubt.
The gifts Holly helped me pick for the Whittaker family would, I knew, be treasured and loved simply because they came from me. Those gifts, I found joy in purchasing. Holly had great taste, and surprisingly, the shop was filled with a vast assortment of beautiful and useful items. I saw the way Holly’s eyes lit up at some of the items she looked at, and I had to resist the urge to buy them all for her. She would hate that. This was something she wanted to do for me, and she didn't want it to be about her at all.
I accepted the bags of wrapped gifts, Holly having asked Leslie to keep the two groups separate, and we walked to the truck, my heart growing heavier with each step.
We were silent on the drive back to her house, and I followed her inside, my stomach clenching and throat going dry at the thought of what would happen next.
She had to go to work, and I had to finish my drive and go see my family. Our time was done. The unexpected gift of her sweet, caring nature was about to end. After Tom had called, we'd made love, showered in her small bathroom, and shared some more time in her kitchen, sipping coffee, neither of us hungry for food. My car had been picked up and was now beside hers outside, ready to go.
For a moment, we stood in her tiny kitchen, staring at each other, and then she was in my arms. I lifted her up, holding her tight.
"My Angel," I whispered against her ear. "What you've given me these past hours—I can't even begin to say thank you."
Her arms tightened. "You are so much more than you give yourself credit for, Evan. You have such a beautiful soul. Don't let them take that away from you." Her lips touched mine in a gentle caress. "Live your life for you. Find what makes you happy and grab it. Act on that happiness."